The chilly wind whip my back. I walk steadily in a t-shirt and shorts. My jacket and sweats were tossed into the blaze. Goosebumps litter my body. Still, I slither steadily. The satisfying sound of crunching leaves fill me with euphoria. This must be how Enny felt. Taking something so perfect and whole, and crushing- what could be more satisfying? But the fool did not know that leaves are meant to be broken for the betterment of nature. They break down and work as a fertilizer for other life to grow, for other trees to grow—more leaves fall. And if you fail to rake the leaves, if all you do is smash them, then they will suffocate and kill the soil.
Strange, I thought something would change after killing a man. Thick clouds swarm the sun, bringing in an even greater chill. Well, regret takes time, because it requires reflection. I've never been shocked by anything in my entire life. The smell of rain tickles my nostrils. What are you supposed to feel after killing a man anyways? My dark, curly hair shrivels as a water droplet invades. Thunder booms in the distance. Another storm approaches.
Finally, I round the corner and reach my street. Roku sits on the stony stairs leading to my porch. I forgot to give her the key. But, my Mom should've let her inside? Roku rests with her head slumped. I guess this is the natural reaction after killing someone. I step past her, assuming she desires isolation.
"Wait…" She says, grabbing hold of my shirt. Her hands quake. She's more shaken up than I thought.
"What's wrong?" I ask her, "Cmon' we can talk inside. It's freezing out here, aren't you cold?" The very act of breathing weighs down on her stiff body. I pull her up to begin walking forward. She freezes.
"Please! Don't… just- I don't know what to do… Zero, we can't call the police can we? No, of course not. Not after what we just did. We have to stay low, but I- I can't just let you go in there… But," Roku says, her eyes pleading. My shirt stretches as her grip on me intensifies. I grow impatient, and so do the clouds. A shower of watery bullets rain down. We're only two steps away from the porch. I break off her hand, and walk inside. Roku reaches out for me, and then fades; Realizing it's too late; recognizing it's inevitable. She grabs her hair and starts yanking as though she were trying to remove her skull.
I insert the key, only to find the door already unlocked. Darkness consumes the inside of my house. Stepping inside, I'm swarmed by a sweet, rotten smell. I cover my nose and walk steadily into the darkness. I discover the light switch. A click and then a burst of light fills the room. My eyes swiftly adjust. But my brain is slow to pick up on the patches of blood soaking the wooden floor. Did Mom spill wine? I walk into the living. There, my Mom stands with a machete through her chest and a dagger in her left eye. Her lifeless body presses against the wall in agony. Blood drowns the floor below her. Her right eye has been gouged out and rests inside of her gaping mouth. The white walls are screaming red.
A note dangles from the dagger in her eye socket. I walk up, and grab. I sit on the couch, my legs weak from walking. The note reads,
"You are a fake. I will carry them out.
Sincerely, Decem"
I turn the note over. There are skribbles written on the back, too small to make out. I snag a magnifying glass from the coffee table.
"Plo- Plot for Apocalypse… First we would… And then… Once he's dead…" I read, my eyes widening. This is my grand plan to destroy the world. Decem? Ten? There is no general number ten!? But, only a general would know of my plan… which means I've been betrayed.
As I sit in front of my Mom's mangled corpse, I find myself--for the first time--utterly shocked.